


Winter Wonders

by Anchan (Anchan_thevolleyballplayer)



Series: Gates of Hell [2]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Cuddling, Devil!Jisung, Domesticity, Established Relationship, Fluff, How to take care of your devil - a guide by Minho, Kissing, Lee Minho | Lee Know is Whipped, M/M, Playing Outside, soft, some squirrel cameos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 17:47:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27630233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anchan_thevolleyballplayer/pseuds/Anchan
Summary: “I think winter might be my new favourite season.”
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Series: Gates of Hell [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1722322
Comments: 3
Kudos: 55





	Winter Wonders

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dearminho](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dearminho/gifts).



> At first, I thought I’d be making a seasonal series for this world, writing a four parts story of Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter… but just like most of my other plans, I failed to keep up with it and missed Autumn (Halloween, to be precise). Nevertheless, I’m still holding onto the idea of featuring each season within this world, so let’s see where it takes me!

With a satisfied hum, Minho relaxes back into the cushions, leaning over the couch headrest to observe what’s happening in the kitchen. A silhouette passes through the room, tail swirling behind as the young devil hurries around to set up their hot drinks. 

He almost stands up to help him when he sees Jisung approaching the couch, balancing a tray with hot drinks in his arms. Well, almost - he’s too comfortable and warm under the blanket to move. 

“Marshmallows?” he inquires, peeking into the mug that Jisung offers to him with a smile. 

He takes a long sip, enjoying the sweetness melting on his tongue and the warmth that bubbles into his stomach and spreads through his whole body, though no longer than for a few moments. 

He always chases after the warm feeling with taking another sip - at least when he’s alone at home, having no one to warm him up. Lucky to have Jisung around, right? 

“Always,” the younger answers, giggling. “You know we don’t have that in Hell.” 

Minho places the mug aside and opens his arms, letting the younger slip under the blanket with him, settling into his lap. Jisung’s tail wiggles out from under him to wrap around Minho’s wrists and motion him to wrap them around his waist. 

Jisung isn’t always direct with what he wants - instead, he helps whatever Minho yearns for to manifest. In moments like these, though, there’s no doubt they want the same thing. 

“Why, though?” he wonders. “They taste the best when you burn them.” 

At this, Jisung proceeds to turn around in his arms, just enough to give Minho a _look._ The expression that blooms on Jisung’s face is worth everything. 

“Yeah, right,” the devil deadpans. “I sometimes forget I come from a volcano.” 

He doesn’t remind Minho for the umpteenth time of how Hell looks like, but it’s not like it matters. _Humans cannot comprehend the atmosphere of such place,_ he usually says when Minho makes a particularly lame joke about the stereotype of devils. 

_You’ll understand one day, maybe,_ is another thing that often leaves his mouth, followed by a dreamy sigh that he fails to hide, and a fond stare. 

Minho leans in to connect their lips - they taste like chocolate and cream. 

“Shouldn’t you be at home during winter?” 

“I am,” Jisung answers simply, humming as he places the mug down to cuddle into Minho’s side more comfortably. Whether Minho wants it or not, his own mug is taken away with it. 

But it’s replaced by comfort, a lithe body curled against his own, safety that only Jisung can provide him. And then it’s also added up with smooth kisses, Jisung’s plump lips lingering over his own as he breathes out his name over and over again. 

  
  


~ ✰ ~ 

The first thing Minho feels after stirring awake is the chill creeping up his ankles, a freezing bite of the morning breeze. The first thing he thinks about is the open window, then, which prompts him to wake up for real. 

He never sleeps with his window open - much less in winter. But another guest to his house uses this exact method to get inside. It’s his favourite visitor. 

“Jisungie?” he croaks out, then rolls over to scan the room. 

His boyfriend is seated on the windowsill, legs swinging playfully. His eyes are trained on the bed, and when he notices Minho’s movements, he tilts his head in delight. 

No words are exchanged between them but Jisung doesn’t need to be _told_ to climb into the bed next to him, to cuddle up and share his body warmth. 

Minho almost falls asleep again, subconsciousness swimming behind his eyelids, feeling completely at ease with Jisung’s arms wrapped around his middle. Their legs tangle together and Jisung even covers them with his wings as a shield against the cold. 

Ah, who would rather wake up than enjoy this moment until the time itself evaporates and the only reality to focus on are Jisung’s gentle words? 

The familiar whispers echoing in his ears, carried through the skin of his neck, that make him shiver more than the sensation itself. Oh so tender kisses peppered into his hair as the hands on his stomach find a stable rubbing pace.

For Minho, this will always be how Heaven feels like, even if its source comes from the opposite world. 

“What are we gonna do today?” 

No longer do Jisung’s words echo against his skin, though they stay close to his ear. It sparks his interest, mostly for he misses the warmth of Jisung’s breath ghosting over his body. 

He forces his eyes to open again, craning his neck enough to look at Jisung. “What do you mean?” 

Jisung’s tail is wiggling with excitement, and the sparkles in his eyes double the cuteness. 

“Humans have winter traditions, right? I’ve never had a chance to experience any!” he sounds like a child, voice full of wonder and longing. 

He has mentioned before that this is his first year spent on Earth, _outside of duty, at least,_ but it never occurred to Minho that there’s something to miss. 

“Oh, well,” he grunts, “most of them happen around Christmas, so you’ll have to wait a bit,” _so please go back to sleep so we can do this a little longer,_ is what he doesn’t add. 

The devil doesn’t seem to be satisfied with the answer, though. He must be practising that pout in front of a mirror, no wonder it’s always so effective. “But we could watch movies?” 

“We do that all year long!” Jisung pouts. 

Minho turns around with his whole body, chasing after his lips; Jisung avoids his mouth at all costs. Two can play that game, though, and Minho can already tell the winner. Jisung’s fingers grasp his pyjamas stronger. 

He puckers his lips tauntingly - that’s all Jisung really needs to comply. 

A pleasant way to warm up. 

When he comes back to senses, Jisung is already beaming up at him. He’s known Jisung for long enough to decipher that look without difficulties. 

And yet, he chooses to ask because he wants Jisung to request things, instead of spinning the world around just to achieve them. “Anything better on your mind?” 

  
  


~ ✰ ~

  
  


It’s cute how excited the younger is for winter, or any other given opportunity to spend time outside. He wonders how much time he spends outside in Hell, whether there _is_ a place similar to nature closeby. 

Judging by Jisung’s child-like vigor, he’s probably seeing snow for the first time; but he knows, by how much Jisung actually knows about nature, that it’s not his first contact.

They aim for the forest, taking a well-trodden path around the less habituated area. That way, Jisung doesn’t have to put extra effort into hiding his wings and tail - his horns would be hidden by a beanie anyway. 

The ground is covered in snowdrifts but instead of flying, Jisung takes his time and entertainment with stomping and jumping around until he’s laughing and running and stumbling to his knees. 

He stands up quickly and dusts his knees as if nothing has happened each time. 

Minho witnesses him sticking out his tongue to taste the falling snow - and it shouldn’t bring him as much warmth as it does. It’s just precious, how entranced the devil is with the glimmers falling from the sky. 

And then he keeps looking, even when Jisung focuses his attention elsewhere, skipping away to observe a snowed upon log. He climbs up, balancing his way from one end to the other, laughing when he lands on the ground. 

  
  
  


…the temptation is too strong. 

Jisung stumbles a few feet forward, caught off guard. When he whips around, he looks almost offended, at least until he notices the pile of snowballs cradled in Minho’s arms. 

When the next ball flies towards him, he uses his wings to shield himself, then his hands. Minho lowers his arm and waits for Jisung to look up before he throws yet another one. 

Although not appearing thrilled, Jisung catches up on the game quickly, looking around to collect a few balls of his own; when he finds none, he begins to create them with the pressure of his palms. Under the never-stopping barrage of Minho’s uneven aim - but it barely causes any harm. 

The counter-attack is strong, though Jisung’s snow bullets rarely stay in one piece. Most of them explode into a tiny poof of snow dust before they even reach Minho’s position. 

Yet the devil doesn’t stop trying. 

After a moment, Minho runs out of munition - but Jisung doesn’t stop. Not even when he requests a truce and declares him a winner. 

Which leaves him with no other option than to take extra measures - as follows: running towards the unprepared devil full-speed; colliding with him; regretting the poorly-thought-out plan and stumbling into the snow. 

“Stop, please,” he pleads, exhausted. “That was enough, you’re the winner.” 

“Good, are you okay?” Jisung chimes, caressing both of Minho’s cheeks as he scans his face for any sign of pain. “Did I hurt you?” 

Minho shakes his head and leans forward to steal a kiss from Jisung’s cold lips. 

Jisung returns the kiss, pecking his nose. The smile he offers is healing. 

Minho rolls to the side, giving Jisung a moment to breathe. 

“You know what, there are better games to play outside, let me show you.” 

“Okay just… give me a moment,” the devil requests, eyes drifting away to watch the clouds. 

For a moment, he keeps still - in the next one, he’s stretching his limbs out as far as possible. He looks like a kitten asking for belly rubs, and Minho _almost_ leans over him to grant the unsaid wish. 

However, he’s stopped by a tiny snow frame outlining Jisung’s body, mapping out his previous movements. He doesn’t dare to break it, setting back to admire Jisung from afar. 

“You’re already getting the hang of it,” he muses, unable to push his smile back. 

Jisung’s eyes rest upon his face, visibly confused. “I’m not doing anything…” 

“How fitting,” he giggles instead of answering, enjoying the alarmed look on his boyfriend’s face, eyes blown wide and lips parted, forming a little ‘oh’ while waiting for an answer. 

This time, Jisung turns his head fully to rest his cheek on the cold ground. “Huh? What is?” 

“You doing angels in the snow,” he smiles, nodding towards the ground. 

Jisung promptly sits up, looking around until he notices the shape underneath him. Once he understands what he’s looking at, he holds his breath, admiring his work. 

“Look, here are your wings, and this is your gown…” Minho explains, traces the silhouette with his finger. “All you’re missing is a halo.” 

“No, the snow angel is,” Jisung shakes his head. “It doesn’t resemble me in the slightest.” 

“Well… maybe not on the outside,” he returns. 

Jisung’s cheeks catch aflame. 

The bright warmth radiating off his face doesn’t disappear when he speaks up, attempting to shift the conversation elsewhere. “What else?”

“What else what?” Minho echoes mindlessly. 

“Let’s move on, what’s our next plan?” 

“For one, we could build a snowman,” he suggests after a moment of thinking. 

“Oh, like a statue?” Jisung chirps, and he heaves himself up, offering a hand to Minho.

“Yeah, kinda,” he answers, and accepts the offer with an amused huff, “more like a pile of ice cream with a face on top.” 

Jisung’s face twists in disbelief, then offence. “Wait, isn’t it too cold for ice cream- you said I couldn’t get one yesterday!” 

Minho can’t hold back his laughter anymore, entertained by the innocent confusion. Jisung whines at him, demands an explanation, but he can just laugh louder, holding onto his boyfriend until he calms down enough to talk. “Han Jisung, you’re ridiculous.” 

“Lee Minho, cut it out! I can’t help it, we don’t have snow in Hell. Like, never.” 

Minho smirks. “Follow my lead then.” 

He can already feel the excitement building in his stomach. 

  
  
  


Jisung shows enthusiasm in rolling its body around, gaining speed and eventually size, checking with Minho ever-so-often to see if he’s done enough. 

He sits on the bottom pile once he’s done, balancing his weight without putting his feet down, tail wiggling behind him. _He looks like a kitten, rather than a devil._

He offers to pile the body up when Minho’s done placing the remaining parts beside him, but eventually fails to lift them. Instead, he presses more snow in between each segment to serve as glue. 

Soon enough, the snowball body is built and they can proceed to decorating. 

They collect stones for the buttons and eyes, and Jisung finds two tree branches for arms, then two others to represent horns. Minho laughs at the image but doesn’t pull them off. 

At last, Jisung lifts his tail up to carve a smile onto the snowman’s face. 

“Do they hold any meaning to humans?” he speculates, observing their creation. “Are they… guardians of the house? Nature?” 

“I’ve never thought about it that way, don’t think so,” Minho answers earnestly, giggling as he reaches for Jisung’s hand to intertwine their fingers. 

“What if they are? Shouldn’t we have built him closer to the house?” 

He grumbles when Jisung lets go of his hand briefly, skipping forward to correct the angle of the snowman’s arms. After a shorter speculation, he wraps the scarf he’s been sporting around his neck, too. “That should keep him warm,” he mumbles underneath his breath. 

“Nah, we’re fine,” Minho assures him, still referring to the previous question - he chooses not to comment on the latter statement. “He’ll come visit us if he’s animated, won’t he?” 

Jisung nods in understanding. “Wait, do snowmen move?” 

  
  
  


“How should we name him?” the devil is beaming when he looks over at Minho, returning back to his boyfriend to admire their work from afar. 

He decides against telling Jisung the snowman will melt in Spring and should therefore not become emotionally attached to; he wouldn’t listen to his own advice anyway. It’s their child now, so it deserves a name. 

A special name, something equally as cute as the clumsy smile that decorates its face. 

“Let’s call him… Jisungie?” 

“No, that’s my name,” Jisung scoffs, bumping his elbow into Minho’s side. “Why not Minho, you said that’s a generic name.” 

Okay, when put like that, the idea of naming the snowman directly after each other does sound silly. He doesn’t want to witness the snow Jisungie melt in Spring, even if it’s not actually his boyfriend. Neither he wants that to happen with his own clone. 

“What about Ji… ho. Should we call him Jiho?” he suggests. Jisung squeezes his hand in response. When he turns to face him, the devil is smiling goofily. 

“That’s a good one, I like it.” 

  
  


~ ✰ ~

  
  


“Time to go home, your wings are turning blue,” Minho commands, following after Jisung to whatever next destination he’s planned; he acts as if the resolution was for Jisung’s good, even though he’s the one whose body is weakened with the freezing cold. 

Jisung ignores his grumbling, skipping along-side to drag him forward - it’s not like Minho would turn around and leave would they not be holding hands, but he doesn’t have any energy to keep walking either. Jisung, once again, becomes his strength to move. 

“My wings can’t turn blue, or any other colour,” the devil assures him. “Only angel wings can turn grey, as far as I know.” 

That one is a tale he’s familiar with; angels falling from the sky as punishment for their crimes. Their wings burn and get covered in ashes, leaving them grey. There’s nowhere for devils to fall, though, nor to burn. 

“You might be the first exemplar of this phenomenon if we don’t hurry home,” he quips instead, feeling his own toes getting numb. 

“Stop complaining for a moment, would ya?” Jisung whines, puffing out his cheeks. 

His brows are furrowed when he spares a glance at Minho, almost as if he could share the burden of Minho’s discomfort. “I know, I know what you feel.” 

So he really _can_ read Minho’s mind. 

“Here,” he inhales, stopping in track to beam at the construction above them, “we are.” 

When Minho looks up, he feels a deja-vu, recalling the exact moment they’ve first visited the treehouse together. Jisung was just as excited back then, too. “Did you want to take something from here?”

_You don’t wanna stay here for the night, right?_

“No, I just wanted to see what it looks like… I‘ve been sleeping at your place for a while now,” he says wistfully, admiring the view. “It looks beautiful snowed in.” 

It truly looks magical - the treehouse sparks many memories and some of the fondest emotions. Now, covered with the snow-white blanket that glimmers in the sunlight, it appears even cosier than normally. 

Although it is made of simple wood, it makes for a good shield from the wind and offers a roof to hide under when the snowing becomes merciless. 

_Almost as beautiful as you,_ Minho thinks. 

The presence beside him lifts off the ground, leaving the snow crumble and fall off his feet in its wake. Minho stands close enough to admire the full stretch of his wings - though only for a moment, as Jisung promptly aims for the sky. 

His flight couldn’t be called graceful, but Minho enjoys watching it, anyway. It’s the way Jisung’s feet turn to face each other, and the smile that blooms on his lips when he feels the fresh breeze pass through his hair. 

And then he lands, his feet gently touching the doorframe. 

Excitedly spins around, almost knocking himself down and tumbling into the ground - he stabilises himself soon, though not before Minho breaks out in cold sweat. “Watch out!” 

“I’m good,” he assures Minho, now sporting another one of his bright smiles. “Look!” 

There seems to be something that caught Jisung’s eye inside, maybe a birds nest; Minho can’t see much from this angle and can’t bring himself to properly care in the unpleasant weather. But… Jisung is waiting for a reaction.

“I can’t see anything,” Minho replies. 

Jisung kicks off into the air, spreading out his wings to use them as a parachute. Admittedly, that makes Minho less worried than flying. It looks safer. 

He watches Jisung land in front of his feet, dusting off his pants, then bowing in a formal manner. “Can I carry you?” 

Despite not liking heights, Minho nods. 

He holds onto Jisung’s shoulders and squeezes his eyes shut, preparing himself for the headstart. The feeling of his feet planting off the solid ground makes his stomach flip, but Jisung’s arms secured tightly around his waist manage to calm him down. 

When he opens his eyes again, they’re seated on a thick, cold tree branch not far away from the bunker entrance. He holds onto it with all his strength, leaning his body into Jisung’s chest. Jisung pecks his cheek in response. 

“Don’t worry, we won’t fall,” he whispers into Minho’s ear; the older nods uncertainly. 

The ground is too far away, and gravity doesn’t take a break in winter either… but maybe the piles of snow could cushion their fall. _If_ they happen to stumble down, of course. 

_Breathe._

Minho casts a glance at the devil seated next to him - he’s no longer keeping an eye on his boyfriend, although his arm stays secured around his waist. Instead, he’s watching something move inside of the house. 

Minho squints to see better but fails to locate the source. Jisung giggles, bringing up his unoccupied hand to discreetly point at a brown furry ball crouched under the table. 

“Look at the cuties,” he gushes, “they found a home here.” 

A squirrel, then another one. They remain unbothered by the intrusion, skipping around and chattering, collecting a pile of acorns under the table where Minho first spotted them. He’s never been one to observe and adore the wildlife from up close, but this feels nice. 

Partially, he feels like he’s intruding but at the same time, looking at life from afar makes for a good therapy. Maybe even makes up for the fear of falling. Again. 

Neither of them moves for a while, leaning into each others’ side for warmth and comfort, watching the fluffy creatures in awe. 

“It would be cruel to make them leave in Spring,” Minho remarks, no more than a whisper. 

Jisung hums, processing his words, then stiffens. When he turns at Minho, he looks almost sad. “You really don’t want me to live here.” 

He doesn’t know what to say - of course, he likes the connection between his childhood and Jisung, even though the devil wasn’t originally a part of it. But then again, the childhood is left in the past, and there’s no other reason to return other than him. 

And he’d much, much rather have the younger safely tucked in his bed, sharing his current - no, his _real_ \- home. To be a part of the present and future. 

Not just temporarily, due to insufferable weather. 

“We’ve gone through this, Min,” Jisung says quietly, knowing exactly what the silence means. He leans into Minho, and would he not be scared of falling, he’d wrap his arms around Jisung in return. 

He appears so small like this. Vulnerable. 

Okay, scratch the fear of falling, Jisung needs to be cradled and embraced, so that’s what he does, connecting their lips softly. Jisung melts against him in an instant. When they part, reluctant to let go just yet, Jisung is smiling again. 

“I promise that it’s gonna happen soon, I think I just know the trick,” he avows, a little braver than before. “For now, you have me here for Winter, anyway.” 

A determined spark flickers in his eyes. 

  
  


~ ✰ ~

After such an eventful day and with Jisung keeping him company, Minho finds himself falling prey to sleepiness, lulled by the melodies that leave Jisung’s mouth and the patterns he draws with his fingers that trace Minho’s stomach in the shared heat under the blanket. 

Jisung’s head is pressed into the crook of his neck, even breaths puffing out and tickling his collarbones. He almost believes the devil is asleep if not for the restless twirl of his tail. 

“I think winter might be my new favourite season,” Jisung murmurs into his skin, words slurred and heavy with sleep. A tired smile is playing on his lips, Minho can tell. 

“Why so?” he wonders, carding his fingers through Jisung’s hair. The devil purrs at the contact, nuzzling closer into his side while being careful not to lose Minho’s hand. A pleased sigh escapes his nose when Minho scratches the skin under his ear lightly. 

“Because,” he whispers softly, vulnerably almost, “I get to stay with you.” 

  
  


“Baby, you’re my home.” 

**Author's Note:**

>  **Happy birthday baby~** Remember when I told you there’s more devil Jisung coming? I hope you enjoyed the story and it could bring you joy! 
> 
> I don’t know much about the situation in your country, but it doesn’t look very bright for any Christmas celebrations with friends here - there are plenty of other things to do in winter, though, as Jisung has discovered!


End file.
